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THE  FLOOD 


THE  FLOOD 


By 
EMILE    ZOLA 


THE  WARREN  PRESS 
New  York 


Copyright  191 1,  by 
Tmi    Warren     Pre** 


THE  FLOOD 


MY  name  is  Louis  Roubien.     I  am 
seventy  years  old.    I  was  born  in 
the  village  of  Saint-Jory,  several 
miles  up  the  Garonne  from  Toulouse. 

For  fourteen  years  I  battled  with  the 
earth  for  my  daily  bread.  At  last,  pros- 
perity smiled  on  me,  and  last  month  I  was 
still  the  richest  farmer  in  the  parish. 

Our    house    seemed    blessed,    happiness 
reigned  there.     The  sun  was  our  brother, 
s 


533100 


THE  FLOOD. 


and  I  cannot  recall  a  bad  crop.  We  were 
a  1  most  a  dozen  on  the  farm.  There  was 
myself,  still  hale  and  hearty,  leading  the 
children  to  work;  then  my  young  brother, 
Pierre,  an  old  bachelor  and  retired  ser- 
geanl ;  then  my  sister,  Agathe,  who  came  to 
us  after  the  death  of  her  husband.  She  was 
a  commanding  woman,  enormous  and  gay, 
whose  laugh  could  be  heard  at  the  other 
end  of  the  village.  Then  came  all  the  brood : 
my  son,  Jacques;  his  wife,  Rosie,  and  their 
three  daughters,  Aimee,  Veronique,  and 
Marie.  The  first  named  was  married  to 
Cyprica  Bouisson,  a  big  jolly  fellow,  by 
whom  she  had  two  children,  one  two  years 
old  and  the  other  ten  months.  Veronique 
was  just  betrothed,  and  was  soon  to  marry 
Gaspard  Eabuteau.  The  third,  Marie,  was 
a  real  young  lady,  so  white,  so  fair,  that  she 
looked  as  if  born  in  the  city. 

6 


THE  FLOOD. 


That  made  ten,  counting  everybody.  I 
was  a  grandfather  and  a  great-grandfather. 
When  we  were  at  table  I  had  my  sister, 
Agathe,  at  my  right,  and  my  brother,  Pierre, 
at  my  left.  The  children  formed  a  circle, 
seated  according  to  age,  with  the  heads  di- 
minishing down  to  the  baby  of  ten  months, 
who  already  ate  his  soup  like  a  man.  And 
let  me  tell  you  that  the  spoons  in  the  plates 
made  a  clatter.  The  brood  had  hearty  ap- 
petites. And  what  gayety  between  the 
mouthfuls !  I  was  filled  with  pride  and  joy 
when  the  little  ones  held  out  their  hands 
toward  me,  crying: 

"Grandpa,  give  us  some  bread!  A  big 
piece,  grandpa!" 

Oh !  the  good  days !  Our  farm  sang  from 
every  corner.  In  the  evening,  Pierre  in- 
vented games  and  related  stories  of  his  regi- 
ment.    On  Sunday  Agathe  made  cakes  for 


THE  FLOOD. 


I  he  girls.  Marie  knew  some  canticles,  which 
she  Bang  like  a  chorister.  She  looked  like 
a  saint,  with  her  blond  hair  falling  on  her 
neck  and  her  hands  folded  on  her  apron. 

I  had  trailt  another  story  on  the  house 
when  Atmee  had  married  Cyprien;  and  I 
said  laughingly  that  I  would  have  to  build 
another  after  the  wedding  of  Veronique  and 
(iaspard.  We  never  cared  to  leave  each 
other.  We  would  sooner  have  built  a  city 
behind  the  farm,  in  our  enclosure.  When 
families  are  united,  it  is  so  good  to  live  and 
die  where  one  has  grown  up! 

The  month  of  May  had  been  magnificent 
that  year.  It  was  long  since  the  crops  gave 
sueh  good  promise.  That  day  precisely,  I 
had  made  a  tour  of  inspection  with  my  son, 
Jacques.  We  started  at  about  three  o'clock. 
Our  meadows  on  the  banks  of  the  Garonne 
were  of  a  tender  green.  The  grass  was 
$ 


THE  FLOOD. 


three  feet  high,  and  an  osier  thicket,  planted 
the  year  before,  had  sprouts  a  yard  high. 
From  there  we  went  to  visit  our  wheat  and 
our  vines,  fields  bought  one  by  one  as  for- 
tune came  to  us.  The  wheat  was  growing 
strong;  the  vines,  in  full  flower,  promised  a 
superb  vintage.  And  Jacques  laughed  his 
good  laugh  as  he  slapped  me  on  the  shoul- 
der. 

"Well,  father,  we  shall  never  want  for 
bread  nor  for  wine.  You  must  be  a  friend 
of  the  Divine  Power  to  have  silver  showered 
upon  your  land  in  this  way." 

We  often  joked  among  ourselves  of  our 
past  poverty.  Jacques  was  right.  I  must 
have  gained  the  friendship  of  some  saint  or 
of  God  himself,  for  all  the  luck  in  the  coun- 
try was  for  us.  When  it  hailed  the  hail 
ceased  on  the  border  of  our  fields.  If  the 
vines  of  our  neighbors  fell  sick,  ours  seemed 


TUB  FLOOD. 


to  have  a  wall  of  protection  around  them. 
And  in  the  end  1  grew  to  consider  it  only 
just.  Never  doing  harm  to  any  one,  I 
though  1  that  happiness  was  my  due. 

As  we  approached  the  house,  Rose  gesticu- 
lated, calling  out: 

"Hurry  up!" 

One  of  our  cows  had  just  had  a  calf,  and 
everybody  was  excited.  The  birth  of  that 
little  beast  seemed  one  more  blessing.  We 
had  been  obliged  recently  to  enlarge  the 
stables,  where  we  had  nearly  one  hundred 
head  of  animals—- cows  and  sheep,  without 
counting  the  horses. 

"Well,  a  good  day's  work!"  I  cried.  "We 
will  drink  to-night  a  bottle  of  ripened  wine." 

Meanwhile,  Rose  took  us  aside  and  told  us 
that  Gaspard,  Veronique's  betrothed,  had 
come  to  arrange  the  day  for  the  wedding. 
She  lia«l  invited  him  to  remain  for  dinner. 


THE  FLOOD. 


Gaspard,  the  oldest  son  of  a  farmer  of 
Moranges,  was  a  big  boy  of  twenty  years, 
known  throughout  the  country  for  his  pro- 
digious strength.  During  a  festival  at  Tou- 
louse he  had  vanquished  Martial,  the  "Lion 
of  the  Midi.''  With  that,  a  nice  boy,  with 
a  heart  of  gold.  He  was  even  timid,  and 
he  blushed  when  Veronique  looked  him 
squarely  in  the  face. 

I  told  Rose  to  call  him.  He  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  yard,  helping  our  servants  to 
spread  out  the  freshly-washed  linen.  When 
he  entered  the  dining  room,  where  we  were, 
Jacques  turned  toward  me,  saying: 

"You  speak,  father." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "you  have  come,  my  boy, 
to  have  us  set  the  great  day?" 

"Yes,  that  is  it,  Father  Roubien,"  he  an- 
swered, very  red. 


THE  FLOOD. 


"You  mustn't  blush,  my  boy,"  I  contin- 
ued. "It  will  be,  if  you  wish,  on  Saint- 
Felicite  day,  the  10th  of  July.  This  is  the 
23rd  of  June,  so  you  will  have  only  twenty 
days  to  wait.  My  poor  dead  wife  was 
called  Felicite,  and  that  will  bring  you  hap- 
piness.    Well?     Is  it  understood?" 

"Yes,  that  will  do — Sainte-Felicite  day. 
Father  Koubien." 

And  he  gave  each  of  us  a  grip  that  made 
us  wince.  Then  he  embraced  Rose,  calling 
her  mother.  This  big  boy  with  the  terrific 
fists  loved  Veronique  to  the  point  of  losing 
his  appetite. 

"Now,"  I  continued,  "you  must  remain 
fur  il inner.  Well,  everybody  to  the  table! 
I  have  a  thundering  appetite,  I  have." 

That  evening  we  were  eleven  at  table. 
Gaspard  was  placed  next  to  Veronique,  and 
he  sat.  looking  at  her,  forgetting  his  plate, 


THE  FLOOD. 


so  moved  at  the  thought  of  her  belonging 
to  him  that,  at  times,  the  tears  sprang  to  his 
eyes.  Cyprien  and  Aimee,  married  only 
three  years,  smiled.  Jacques  and  Rose,  who 
had  had  twenty-five  years  of  married  life, 
were  more  serious,  but,  surreptitiously,  they 
•exchanged  tender  glances.  As  for  me,  I 
:seemed  to  relive  in  those  two  sweethearts, 
whose  happiness  seemed  to  bring  a  corner 
«of  Paradise  to  our  table.  What  good  soup 
we  had  that  evening !  Aunt  Agathe,  always 
iready  with  a  witticism,  risked  several  jokes. 
'Then  that  honest  Pierre  wanted  to  relate 
Ihis  love  affair  with  a  young  lady  of  Lyons. 
^Fortunately,  we  were  at  the  dessert,  and 
every  one  was  talking  at  once.  I  had  brought 
(two  bottles  of  mellowed  wine  from  the  eel- 
liar.  We  drank  to  the  good  fortune  of 
•Gaspard  and  Veronique.  Then  we  had  sing- 
ling. Gaspard  knew  some  love  songs  in 
13 


THE  FLOOD. 


dialect.  We  also  asked  Marie  for  a  canticle. 
She  stood  up  and  sang  in  a  flute-like  voice 
that  tickled  one's  ears. 

I  went  to  the  window,  and  Gaspard 
joined  me  there. 

"Is  there  no  news  up  your  way?"  I  asked 
him. 

"No,"  he  answered.  "There  is  considerable 
talk  about  the  heavy  rains  of  the  last  few 
days.  Some  seem  to  think  that  they  will 
cause  trouble." 

In  effect,  it  had  rained  for  sixty  hours 
without  stopping.  The  Garonne  was  very 
much  swollen  since  the  preceding  day,  but 
we  had  confidence  in  it,  and,  as  long  as  it 
did  not  overflow  its  banks,  we  could  not 
look  on  it  as  a  bad  neighbor. 

"Bah!"  I  exclaimed,  shrugging  my  shoul- 
ders.   "Nothing  will  happen.     It  is  the  same 


THE  FLOOD. 


every  year.  The  river  puts  up  her  back  as 
if  she  were  furious,  and  she  calms  down  in 
a  night.  You  will  see,  my  boy,  that  it  will 
amount  to  nothing  this  time.  See  how 
beautiful  the  weather  is!" 

And  I  pointed  to  the  sky.  It  was  seven 
o'clock;  the  sun  was  setting.  The  sky  was 
blue,  an  immense  blue  sheet  of  profound 
purity,  in  which  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
were  like  a  golden  dust.  Never  had  I  seen 
the  village  drowsing  in  so  sweet  a  peace. 
Upon  the  tiled  roofs  a  rosy  tint  was  fading. 
I  heard  a  neighbor's  laugh,  then  the  voices 
of  children  at  the  turn  in  the  road  in  front 
of  our  place.  Farther  away  and  softened  by 
the  distance,  rose  the  sounds  of  flocks  en- 
tering their  sheds.  The  great  voice  of  the 
Garonne  roared  continually;  but  it  was  to 
me  as  the  voice  of  the  silence,  so  accus- 
tomed to  it  was  I. 

IS 


THE  FLOOD. 


Little  by  little  the  sky  paled;  the  village 
became  more  drowsy.  It  was  the  evening  of 
a  beautiful  day;  and  I  thought  that  all  our 
good  fortune — the  big  harvests,  the  happy 
house,  the  betrothal  of  Veronique — came  to 
us  from  above  in  the  purity  of  the  dying 
light  A  benediction  spread  over  us  with 
the  farewell  of  the  evening. 

Meanwhile  I  had  returned  to  the  center  of 
the  room.  The  girls  were  chattering.  We 
listened  to  them,  smiling.  Suddenly,  across 
the  serenity  of  the  country,  a  terrible  cry 
wounded,  a  cry  of  distress  and  death : 
"The  Garonne !    The  Garonne !" 


TEE  FLOOD. 


II. 

We  rushed  out  into  the  yard. 

Saint-Jory  is  situated  at  the  bottom  of  a 
slope  at  about  five  hundred  yards  from  the 
Garonne.  Screens  of  tall  poplars  that  di- 
vide the  meadows,  hide  the  river  completely. 

We  could  see  nothing.  And  still  the  cry 
rang  out: 

"The  Garonne!     The  Garonne!" 

Suddenly,  on  the  wide  road  before  us,  ap- 
peared two  men  and  three  women,  one  of 
them  holding  a  child  in  her  arms.  It  was 
they  who  were  crying  out,  distracted,  run- 
17 


THE  FLOOD. 


ning  with  long  strides.  They  turned  at 
times,  looking  behind  with  terrified  faces,  as 
if  a  band  of  wolves  was  pursuing  them. 

"What's  the  matter  with  them?''  demand- 
ed Cyprien.  "Do  you  see  anything,  grand- 
father?" 

"No,"  I  answered.  "The  leaves  are  not 
even  moving." 

I  was  still  talking  when  an  exclamation 
burst  from  us.  Behind  the  fugitives  there 
appeared,  between  the  trunks  of  the  pop- 
lars, amongst  the  large  tufts  of  grass,  what 
looked  like  a  pack  of  gray  beasts  speckled 
with  yellow.  They  sprang  up  from  all  direc- 
tions, waves  crowding  waves,  a  helter-skel- 
ter of  masses  of  foaming  water,  shaking  the 
sod  with  the  rumbling  gallop  of  their 
hordes. 

Tt  was  our  turn  to  send  forth  the  despair- 
ing cry: 


THE  FLOOD. 


"The  Garonne!  The  Garonne!" 
The  two  men  and  the  three  women  were 
still  running  on  the  road.  They  heard  the 
terrible  gallop  gaining  on  them.  Now  the 
waves  arrived  in  a  single  line,  rolling,  tum- 
bling with  the  thunder  of  a  charging  bat- 
talion. With  their  first  shock  they  had  bro- 
ken three  poplars ;  the  tall  foliage  sank  and 
disappeared.  A  wooden  cabin  was  swal- 
lowed up,  a  wall  was  demolished;  heavy 
carts  were  carried  away  like  straws.  But 
the  water  seemed,  above  all,  to  pursue  the 
fugitives.  At  the  bend  in  the  road,  where 
there  was  a  steep  slope,  it  fell  suddenly  in 
an  immense  sheet  and  cut  off  retreat.  They 
continued  to  run,  nevertheless,  splashing 
through  the  water,  no  longer  shouting,  mad 
with  terror.  The  water  swirled  about  their 
knees.  An  enormous  wave  felled  the  woman 
who  was  carrying  the  child.  Then  all  were 
engulfed. 

19 


THE  FLOOD. 


''Quick!  Quick!"  I  cried.  "We  must  get 
into  tin1  house.  It  is  solid — we  have  noth- 
ing to  fear." 

We  !'><>k  refuge  upstairs.  The  house  was 
built  on  a  hillock  above  the  road.  The 
water  invaded  the  yard,  softly,  with  a  little 
rippling  noise.  We  were  not  much  fright- 
cued. 

"Hali!"  said  Jacques,  to  reassure  every 
one,  "this  will  not  amount  to  anything. 
You  remember,  father,  in  '55,  the  water 
came  up  into  the  yard.  It  was  a  foot  deep. 
Then  it  receded." 

"It  is  disastrous  for  the  crops,  just  the 
same,"  murmured  Cyprien. 

"No,  it  will  not  be  anything,"  I  said,  see- 
ing the  large  questioning  eyes  of  our  girls. 

A  i nice  had  put  her  two  children  into  the 
bed  She  sat  beside  them,  with  Veronique 
and  Marie.     Aunt  Agathe  spoke  of  heating 


TEE  FLOOD. 


some  wine  she  had  brought  up,  to  give  us 
courage. 

Jacques  and  Rose  were  looking  out  of  a 
window.  I  was  at  the  other,  with  my 
brother  Pierre,  Cyprien  and  Gaspard. 

"Come  up!"  I  cried  to  our  two  servants, 
who  were  wading  in  the  yard.  "Don't  stay 
there  and  get  all  wet." 

"But  the  animals?"  they  asked.  "They 
are  afraid.  They  are  killing  each  other  in 
the  barn." 

"No,  no;  come  up!  After  a  while  we'll 
see  to  them." 

The  rescue  of  the  animals  would  be  im- 
possible, if  the  disaster  was  to  attain  greater 
proportions.  I  thought  it  unnecessary  to 
frighten  the  family.  So  I  forced  myself  to 
appear  hopeful.  Leaning  on  the  window- 
sill,  I  indicated  the  progress  of  the  flood. 
The  river,  after  its  attack  on  tLe  village, 


THE  FLOOD. 


was  in  possession  even  to  the  narrowest 
streets.  It  was  no  longer  a  galloping 
charge,  but  a  slow  and  invincible  strangu- 
lation. The  hollow  in  the  bottom  of  which 
Saint-Jory  is  built  was  changed  into  a  lake. 
In  our  yard  the  water  was  soon  three  feet 
deep.  But  I  asserted  that  it  remained  sta- 
tionary— I  even  went  so  far  as  to  pretend 
that  it  was  going  down. 

"Well,  you  will  be  obliged  to  sleep  here 
to-night,  my  boy,"  I  said,  turning  to  Gas- 
pard.  "That  is,  unless  the  roads  are  free 
in  a  couple  of  hours — which  is  quite  pos- 
sible." 

Be  looked  at  me  without  answering,  his 
face  quite  pale;  and  I  saw  him  look  at  Vero- 
nique  with  an  expression  of  anguish. 

It  was  half-past  eight  o'clock.  It  was 
still  daylight— a  pale,  sad  light  beneath  the 
blanched   sky.     The  servants  had  had  the 


THE  FLOOD. 


forethought  to  bring  up  two  lamps  with 
them.  I  had  them  lighted,  thinking  that 
they  would  brighten  up  the  somber  room. 
Aunt  Agathe,  who  had  rolled  a  table  to  the 
middle  of  the  room,  wished  to  organize  a 
card  party.  The  worthy  woman,  whose  eyes 
sought  mine  momentarily,  thought  above  all 
of  diverting  the  children.  Her  good  humor 
kept  up  a  superb  bravery;  and  she  laughed 
to  combat  the  terror  that  she  felt  growing 
around  her.  She  forcibly  placed  Aimee, 
Veronique,  and  Marie  at  the  table.  She  put 
the  cards  into  their  hands,  took  a  hand  her- 
self with  an  air  of  intense  interest,  shuf- 
fling, cutting,  dealing  with  such  a  flow  of 
talk  that  she  almost  drowned  the  noise  of 
the  water.  But  our  girls  could  not  be  di- 
verted ;  they  were  pale,  with  feverish  hands, 
and  ears  on  the  alert.  Every  few  moments 
there  was  a  pause  in  the  play.  One  of  them 
would  turn  to  me,  asking  in  a  low  voice: 


TUB  FLOOD. 


"Grandpa,  is  it  still  rising?" 

"No,  no.  Go  on  with  the  game.  There  is 
no  danger." 

Never  had  my  heart  been  gripped  by  such 
agony.  All  the  men  placed  themselves  at 
the  windows  to  hide  the  terrifying  sight. 
We  tried  to  smile,  turned  toward  the  peace- 
ful lamps  that  threw  discs  of  light  upon  the 
table.  I  recalled  our  winter  evenings,  when 
we  gathered  around  the  table.  It  was  the 
same  quiet  interior,  filled  with  the  warmth 
of  affection.  And  while  peace  was  there  I 
heard  behind  me  the  roaring  of  the  escaped 
river,  that  was  constantly  rising. 

"Louis/'  said  my  brother  Pierre,  "the 
water  is  within  three  feet  of  the  window. 
We  ought  to  tell  them." 

I  hushed  him  up  by  pressing  his  arm. 
But  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  hide  the 
peril.     In  our  barns  the  animals  were  kill- 

24 


TT1E  FLOOD. 


ing  each  other.  There  were  bleatings  and 
bellowings  from  tlie  crazed  herds;  and  the 
horses  gave  the  harsh  cries  that  can  be 
heard  at  great  distances  when  they  are  in 
danger  of  death. 

"My  God!  My  God!"  cried  Aimee,  who 
stood  up,  pressing  her  hands  to  her  tem- 
ples. 

They  all  ran  to  the  windows.  There  they 
remained,  mute,  their  hair  rising  with  fear. 
A  dim  light  floated  above  the  yellow  sheet 
of  water.  The  pale  sky  looked  like  a  white 
cloth  thrown  over  the  earth.  In  the  dis- 
tance trailed  some  smoke.  Everything  was 
misty.  It  was  the  terrified  end  of  a  day 
melting  into  a  night  of  death.  And  not  a 
human  sound,  nothing  but  the  roaring  of 
that  sea  stretching  to  infinity;  nothing  but 
the  bellowings  and  the  neighings  of  the  ani- 
mals. 


TUE  FLOOD. 


"Aiy  (Jod!  My  God!"  repeated  the  wom- 
en, in  low  voices,  as  if  they  feared  to  speak 
aloud. 

A  terrible  cracking  silenced  the  exclama- 
tions. The  maddened  animals  had  burst 
open  the  doors  of  the  stables.  They  passed 
in  the  yellow  flood,  rolled  about,  carried 
away  by  the  current,  The  sheep  were 
tossed  about  like  dead  leaves,  whirling  in 
bands  in  the  eddies.  The  cows  and  the 
horses  struggled,  tried  to  walk,  and  lost 
their  footing.  Our  big  gray  horse  fought 
long  for  life.  He  stretched  his  neck,  he 
reared,  snorting  like  a  forge.  But  the  en- 
raged  waters  took  him  by  the  crupper,  and 
we  saw  him,  beaten,  abandon  himself. 

Then  we  gave  way  for  the  first  time.    We 

felt  the  need  of  tears.    Our  hands  stretched 

out  to  those  dear  animals  that  were  being 

borne  away,   we  lamented,  giving  vent  to 

* 


THE  FLOOD. 


the  tears  and  the  sobs  that  we  had  sup- 
pressed. Ah !  what  ruin !  The  harvests  de- 
stroyed, the  cattle  drowned,  our  fortunes 
changed  in  a  few  hours!  Clod  was  not  just ! 
We  had  done  nothing  against  Him,  and  He 
was  taking  everything  from  us!  I  shook 
my  fist  at  the  horizon.  I  spoke  of  our  walk 
that  afternoon,  of  our  meadows,  our  wheat 
and  vines  that  we  had  found  so  full  of  prom- 
ise. It  was  all  a  lie,  then!  The  sun  lied 
when  he  sank,  so  sweet  and  calm,  in  the 
midst  of  the  evening's  serenity. 

The  water  was  still  rising.  Pierre,  who 
was  watching  it,  cried: 

"Louis,  we  must  look  out!  The  water  is 
up  to  the  window!" 

That  warning  snatched  us  from  our  spell 
of  despair.  I  was  once  more  myself.  Shrug- 
ging my  shoulders,  I  said : 

"Money  is  nothing.  As  long  as  we  are  all 
saved,  there  need  be  no  regrets.  We  shall 
have  to  work  again — that  is  all !" 


TUE  FLOOD. 


"Yes,  yes;  you  are  right,  father,"  said 
Jacques,  feverishly.  "And  we  run  no  dan- 
ger— the  walls  are  good  and  strong.  We 
must  get  up  on  the  roof." 

That  was  the  only  refuge  left  us.  The 
water,  which  had  mounted  the  stairs  step 
by  step,  was  already  coming  through  the 
door.  We  rushed  to  the  attic  in  a  group, 
holding  close  to  each  other.  Cyprien  had 
disappeared.  I  called  him,  and  I  saw  him 
return  from  the  next  room,  his  face  working 
with  emotion.  Then,  as  I  remarked  the  ab- 
sence of  the  servants,  for  whom  I  was  wait- 
ing, he  gave  me  a  strange  look,  then  said, 
in  a  suppressed  voice: 

"Dead!  The  corner  of  the  shed  under 
their  room  caved  in." 

The  poor  girls  must  have  gone  to  fetch 
their  savings  from  their  trunks.  I  told  him 
to  say  nothing  about  it.    A  cold  shiver  had 

28 


THE  FLOOD. 


passed  over  me.     It  was  Death  entering  the 
house. 

When  we  went  up,  in  our  turn,  we  did  not 
even  think  of  putting  out  the  lights.  The 
cards  remained  spread  upon  the  table. 
There  was  already  a  foot  of  water  in  the 
room. 


85» 


THE  FLOOD. 


III. 

Fortunately,  the  roof  was  vast  and  sloped 
gently.  We  reached  it  through  a  lid-like 
window,  above  which  was  a  sort  of  plat- 
form. It  was  there  that  we  took  refuge. 
The  women  seated  themselves.  The  men 
went  over  the  tiles  to  reconnoitre.  From 
my  post  against  the  dormer  window 
through  which  we  had  climbed,  I  examined 
the  four  points  of  the  horizon. 

"Help  cannot  fail  to  arrive,"  I  said,  brave- 
ly. "The  people  of  Saintin  have  boats;  they 
will  come  I  his  way.  Look  over  there!  Isn't 
I  hat  a  lantern  on  the  water?" 


THE  FLOOD. 


But  no  one  answered  me.  Pierre  had 
lighted  his  pipe,  and  he  was  smoking  so  fu- 
riously that,  at  each  puff,  he  spit  out  pieces 
of  the  stem.  Jacques  and  Cyprien  looked 
into  the  distance,  with  drawn  faces;  while 
Gaspard,  clenching  his  fists,  continued  to 
walk  about,  seeking  an  issue.  At  our  feet 
the  women,  silent  and  shivering,  hid  their 
faces  to  shut  out  the  sight.  Yet  Rose  raised 
her  head,  glanced  about  her  and  demanded : 

"And  the  servants?  Where  are  they? 
Why,  aren't  they  here?" 

I  avoided  answering.  She  then  ques- 
tioned me,  her  eyes  on  mine. 

"Where  are  the  servants?" 

I  turned  away,  unable  to  lie.  I  felt  that 
chill  that  had  already  brushed  me  pass  over 
our  women  and  our  dear  girls.  They  had 
understood.  Marie  burst  into  tears.  Aimee 
wrapped  her  two  children  in  her  skirt,  as 

31 


THE  FLOOD. 


if  to  protect  them.  Veronique,  her  face  in 
her  hands,  did  not  move.  Aunt  Agathe, 
very  pale,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and 
mumbled  Paters  and  Aves. 

Meanwhile  the  spectacle  about  us  became 
of  sovereign  grandeur.  The  night  retained 
the  clearness  of  a  summer  night.  There 
was  no  moon,  but  the  sky  was  sprinkled 
with  stars,  and  was  of  so  pure  a  blue  that 
it  seemed  to  fill  space  with  a  blue  light. 
And  the  immense  sheet  of  water  expanded 
beneath  the  softness  of  the  sky.  We  could 
no  longer  see  any  land. 

"The  water  is  rising;  the  water  is  rising!" 
repeated  my  brother  Pierre,  still  crunching 
the  stem  of  his  pipe  between  his  teeth. 

The  water  was  within  a  yard  of  the  roof. 
It  was  losing  its  tranquility;  currents  were 
being  formed.  In  less  than  an  hour  the 
water  became  threatening,  dashing  against 


THE  FLOOD. 


the  house,  bearing  drifting  barrels,  pieces 
of  wood,  clumps  of  weeds.  Iu  the  distance 
there  were  attacks  upon  walls,  and  we  could 
hear  the  resounding  shocks.  Poplar  trees 
fell,  houses  crumbled,  like  a  cartload  of 
stones  emptied  by  the  roadside. 

Jacques,  unnerved  by  the  sobs  of  the 
women,  cried : 

"We  can't  stay  here.  We  must  try  some- 
thing. Father,  I  beg  of  you,  try  to  do 
something." 

I  stammered  after  him : 

"Yes,  yes;  let  us  try  to  do  something." 

And  we  knew  of  nothing.  Gaspard  of- 
fered to  take  Veronique  on  his  back  and 
swim  with  her  to  a  place  of  safety.  Pierre 
suggested  a  raft.    Cyprien  finally  said: 

"If  we  could  only  reach  the  church!" 

Above  the  waters  the  church  remained 
standing,  with  its  little  square  steeple.   We 

33 


THE  FLOOD. 


were  separated  from  it  by  seven  houses. 
Our  farmhouse,  the  first  of  the  village,  ad- 
joined a  higher  building,  which,  in  turn, 
leaned  against  the  next.  Perhaps,  by  way 
of  the  roofs,  we  would  be  able  to  reach  the 
parsonage.  A  number  of  people  must  have 
taken  refuge  there  already,  for  the  neigh- 
boring roofs  were  vacant,  and  we  could  hear 
voices  that  surely  came  from  the  steeple. 
But  what  dangers  must  be  run  to  reach 
them! 

"It  is  impossible,"  said  Pierre.  "The 
house  of  the  Raimbeaus  is  too  high;  we 
would  need  ladders." 

"I  am  going  to  try  it,"  said  Cyprien.  "I 
will  return  if  the  way  is  impracticable. 
Otherwise,  we  will  all  go  and  we  will  have 
to  carry  the  girls." 

I  let  him  go.  He  was  right.  We  had  to 
try  the  impossible.     He  had  succeeded,  by 

34 


THE  FLOOD. 


the  aid  of  an  iron  hook  fixed  in  a  chimney, 
in  climbing  to  the  next  house,  when  his  wife, 
Aimee,  raising  her  head,  noticed  that  he  was 
no  longer  with  us.    She  screamed : 

"Where  is  he?  I  don't  want  him  to  leave 
me!  We  are  together,  we  shall  die  to- 
gether !" 

When  she  saw  him  on  the  top  of  the  house 
she  ran  over  the  tiles,  still  holding  her  chil- 
dren.    And  she  called  out: 

"Cyprien,  wait  for  me!  I  am  going  with 
you.     I  am  going  to  die  with  you." 

She  persisted.  He  leaned  over,  pleading 
with  her,  promising  to  come  back,  telling 
her  that  he  was  going  for  the  rescue  of  all 
of  us.  But,  with  a  wild  air,  she  shook  her 
head,  repeating: 

"I  am  going  with  you !  I  am  going  with 
you !" 

He  had  to  take  the  children.  Then  he 
helped  her  up.    We  could  follow  them  along 

35 


THE  FLOOD. 


the  crest  of  the  house.  They  walked  slowly. 
She  had  taken  the  children  again,  and  at 
every  step  he  turned  and  supported  her. 

"Get  her  to  a  safe  place,  and  return!"  I 
shouted. 

I  saw  him  wave  his  hand,  but  the  roar- 
in. i,r  of  the  water  prevented  my  hearing  his 
answer.  Soon  we  could  not  see  them.  They 
had  descended  to  the  roof  of  the  next  house. 
At  the  end  of  five  minutes  they  appeared 
upon  the  third  roof,  which  must  have  been 
very  steep,  for  they  went  on  hands  and 
knees  along  the  summit.  A  sudden  terror 
seized  me.  I  put  my  hands  to  my  mouth 
and  shouted: 

"( '»me  back !     Come  back  !" 

Then    all   of  us   shouted  together.     Our 

voices  stopped  I  hem  for  a  moment,  but  they 

continued  on  their  way.     They  reached  the 

angle  formed  by  the  street  upon  which  faced 

36 


THE  FLOOD. 


the  Raimbeau  house,  a  high  structure,  with 
a  roof  at  least  ten  feet  above  those  of  the 
neighboring  houses.  For  a  moment  they 
hesitated.  Then  Cyprien  climbed  up  a 
chimney  pipe,  with  the  agility  of  a  cat.  Ai- 
mee,  who  must  have  consented  to  wait  for 
him,  stood  on  the  tiles.  We  saw  her  plain- 
ly, black  and  enlarged  against  the  pale  sky, 
straining  her  children  to  her  bosom.  And 
it  was  then  that  the  horrifying  trouble  be- 
gan. 

The  Raimbeau  house,  originally  intended 
for  a  factory,  was  very  flimsily  built.  Be- 
sides, the  facade  was  exposed  to  the  current 
in  the  street.  I  thought  I  could  see  it  trem- 
ble from  the  attacks  of  the  water;  and,  with 
a  contraction  of  the  throat,  I  watched  Cy- 
prien cross  the  roof.  Suddenly  a  rumbling 
was  heard.  The  moon  rose,  a  round  moon, 
whose  yellow  face  lighted  up  the  immense 

37 


THE  FLOOD. 


lake.  Not  a  detail  of  the  catastrophe  was 
lost  to  us.  The  Raimbeau  house  collapsed. 
We  gave  a  cry  of  terror  as  we  saw  Cyprien 
disappear.  As  the  house  crumbled  we  could 
distinguish  nothing  but  a  tempest,  a  swirl- 
inji  of  waves  beneath  the  debris  of  the  roof. 
Then  calm  was  restored,  the  surface  be- 
came smooth;  and  out  of  the  black  hole 
of  the  engulfed  house  projected  the  skeleton 
of  its  framework.  There  was  a  mass  of 
entangled  beams,  and,  amongst  them,  I 
seemed  to  see  a  body  moving,  something  liv- 
ing making  superhuman  efforts. 

"He  lives !"  I  cried.    "Oh,  God  be  praised ! 
He  lives!" 

We  laughed  nervously;  we  clapped  our 
hands,  as  if  saved  ourselves. 

"He  is  going  to  raise  himself  up,"  said 
Pierre. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Gaspard,  "he  is  trying 
to  seize  the  beam  on  his  left." 
.18 


THE  FLOOD. 


But  our  laugh  ceased.  We  had  just 
realized  the  terrible  situation  in  which 
Cvprien  was  placed.  During  the  fall  of  the 
house  his  feet  had  been  caught  between  two 
beams,  and  he  hung  head  downward  within 
a  few  inches  of  the  water.  On  the  roof  of 
the  next  house  Aimee  was  still  standing, 
holding  her  two  children.  A  convulsive 
tremor  shook  her.  She  did  not  take  her 
eyes  from  her  husband,  a  few  yards  below 
her.  And,  mad  with  horror,  she  emitted 
without  cessation  a  lamentable  sound  like 
the  howling  of  a  dog. 

"We  can't  let  him  die  like  that,"  said 
Jacques,  distracted.  "We  must  get  down 
there." 

"Perhaps  we  could  slide  down  the  beams 
and  save  him,"  remarked  Pierre. 

And  they  started  toward  the  neighboring 
roof,  when  the  second  house  collapsed,  leav- 

39 


THE  FLOOD. 


ing  a  gap  in  the  route.  Then  a  thill  seized 
us.  We  mechanically  grasped  each  other's 
hands,  wringing  them  cruelly  as  we  watched 
the  harrowing  sight. 

Cyprien  had  tried  at  first  to  stiffen  his 
body.  With  extraordinary  strength,  he  had 
Lifted  himself  above  the  water,  holding  his 
body  in  an  oblique  position.  But  the  strain 
was  too  great.  Nevertheless,  he  struggled, 
tried  to  reach  some  of  the  beams,  felt  around 
him  for  something  to  hold  to.  Then,  re- 
signing himself,  he  fell  back  again,  hang- 
ing limp. 

Death  was  slow  in  coming.  The  water 
barely  covered  his  hair,  and  it  rose  very 
gradually.  He  must  have  felt  its  cool- 
ness on  his  brain.  A  wave  wet  his  brow; 
others  closed  his  eyes.  Slowly  we  saw  his 
head  disappear. 

40 


THE  FLOOD. 


The  women,  at  our  feet,  had  buried  their 
faces  in  their  clasped  hands.  We,  ourselves, 
fell  to  our  knees,  our  arms  outstretched, 
weeping,  stammering  supplications. 

On  the  other  roof  Aimee,  still  standing, 
her  children  clasped  to  her  bosom,  howled 
mournfully  into  the  night. 


a* 


THE  FLOOD. 


IV. 

I  know  not  how  long  we  remained  in  a 
stupor  after  that  tragedy.  When  I  came  to, 
the  water  had  risen.  It  was  now  on  a  level 
with  the  tiles.  The  roof  was  a  narrow 
island,  emerging  from  the  immense  sheet. 
To  the  right  and  the  left  the  houses  must 
have  crumbled. 

"We  are  moving,"  murmured  Rose,  who 
clung  to  the  tiles. 

And  we  all  experienced  the  effect  of  roll- 
ing, as  if  the  roof  had  become  detached  and 

42 


TIIE  FLOOD. 


turned  into  a  raft.  The  swift  currents 
seemed  to  be  drifting  us  away.  Then,  when 
we  looked  at  the  church  clock,  immovable 
opposite  us,  the  dizziness  ceased;  we  found 
ourselves  in  the  same  place  in  the  midst 
of  the  waves. 

Then  the  water  began  an  attack.  Until 
then  the  stream  had  followed  the  street ;  but 
the  debris  that  encumbered  it  deflected  the 
course.  And  when  a  drifting  object,  a 
beam,  came  within  reach  of  the  current,  it 
seized  it  and  directed  it  against  the  house 
like  a  battering-ram.  Soon  ten,  a  dozen, 
beams  were  attacking  us  on  all  sides.  The 
water  roared.  Our  feet  were  spattered 
with  foam.  We  heard  the  dull  moaning  of 
the  house  full  of  water.  There  were  mo- 
ments when  the  attacks  became  frenzied, 
when  the  beams  battered  fiercely ;  and  then 
we  thought  that  the  end  was  near,  that  the 

43 


THE  FLOOD. 


walls  would  open  and  deliver  us  to  the 
river. 

Gaspard  had  risked  himself  upon  the 
edge  of  the  roof.  He  had  seized  a  rafter 
and  drawn  it  to  him. 

"We   must   defend   ourselves/'   he   cried. 

Jacques,  on  his  side,  had  stopped  a  long 
pole  in  its  passage.  Pierre  helped  him.  I 
cursed  my  age  that  left  me  without  strength, 
as  feeble  as  a  child.  But  the  defense  was 
organized — a  drill  between  three  men  and 
a  river.  Gaspard,  holding  his  beam  in 
readiness,  awaited  the  driftwood  that  the 
current  sent  against  us,  and  he  stopped  it 
a  short  distance  from  the  walls.  At  times 
the  shock  was  so  rude  that  he  fell.  Beside 
him  Jacques  and  Pierre  manipulated  the 
long  pole.  During  nearly  an  hour  that  un- 
ending fight  continued.  And  the  water  re- 
tained   its    tranquil    obstinacy,    invincible. 

44 


THE  FLOOD. 


Then  Jacques  and  Pierre  succumbed,  pros- 
trated;  while  Gaspard,  in  a  last  violent 
thrust,  had  his  beam  wrested  from  him  by 
the  current.     The  combat   was  useless. 

Marie  and  Veronique  had  thrown  them- 
selves into  each  other's  arms.  They  repeat- 
ed incessantly  one  phrase — a  phrase  of  ter- 
mor that  I  still  hear  ringing  in  my  ears: 

"I  don't  want  to  die!  I  don't  want  to 
die !" 

Rose  put  her  arms  about  them.  She  tried 
to  console  them,  to  reassure  them.  And  she 
herself,  trembling,  raised  her  face  and  cried 
out,  in  spite  of  herself: 

"I  don't  want  to  die!" 

Aunt  Agathe  alone  said  nothing.  She  no 
longer  prayed,  no  longer  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross.  Bewildered,  her  eyes  roamed 
about,  and  she  tried  to  smile  when  her 
glance  met  mine. 

45 


TEE  FLOOD. 


The  water  was  beating  against  the  tiles 
now.  There  was  no  hope  of  help.  We  still 
heard  the  voices  in  the  direction  of  the 
church;  two  lanterns  had  passed  in  the  dis- 
tance; and  the  silence  spread  over  the  im- 
mense yellow  sheet.  The  people  of  Saintin, 
who  owned  boats,  must  have  been  surprised 
before  us. 

Gaspard  continued  to  wander  over  the 
roof-     Suddenly  he  called  us. 

"Look!"  he  said.  "Help  me — hold  me 
tight!" 

He  had  a  pole  and  he  was  watching  an 
enormous  black  object  that  was  gently  drift- 
ing toward  the  house.  It  was  the  roof  of  a 
shed,  made  of  strong  boards,  and  that  was 
floating  like  a  raft.  When  it  was  within 
teach  he  stopped  it  with  the  pole,  and,  as 
he  felt  himself  being  carried  off,  he  called 
to  us.  We  held  him  around  the  waist 
* 


THE  FLOOD. 


Then,  as  the  mass  entered  the  current,  it 
returned  against  our  roof  so  violently  that 
we  were  afraid  of  seeing  it  smashed  into 
splinters. 

Gaspard  jumped  upon  it  boldly.  He  went 
over  it  carefully,  to  assure  himself  of  its 
solidity.     He  laughed,   saying  joyously: 

"Grandfather,  we  are  saved!  Don't  cry 
any  more,  you  women.  A  real  boat !  Look, 
my  feet  are  dry.  And  it  will  easily  carry 
all  of  us !" 

Still,  he  thought  it  well  to  make  it  more 
solid.  He  caught  some  floating  beams  and 
bound  them  to  it  with  a  rope  that  Pierre 
had  brought  up  for  an  emergency.  Gas- 
pard even  fell  into  the  water,  but  at  our 
screams  he  laughed.  He  knew  the  water 
well;  he  could  swim  three  miles  in  the  Ga- 
ronne at  a  stretch.  Getting  up  again,  he 
shook  himself,  crying: 

47 


THE  FLOOD. 


"Coine,  get  on  it !    Don't  lose  any  time !" 

The  women  were  on  their  knees.  Gas- 
pard  had  to  carry  Veronique  and  Marie  to 
the  middle  of  the  raft,  where  he  made  them 
sil   down. 

Rose  and  Aunt  Agathe  slid  down  the  tiles 
and  placed  themselves  beside  the  young 
girls.  At  this  moment  I  looked  toward  the 
church.  Aimee  was  still  in  the  same  place. 
She  was  leaning  now  against  a  chimney, 
holding  her  children  up  at  arm's  length,  for 
the  water  was  to  her  waist. 

"Don't  grieve,  grandfather,"  said  Gas- 
pa  nl.     "We  will  take  her  off  on  the  way." 

Pierre  and  Jacques  were  already  on  the 
raft,  so  1  jumped  on.  Gaspard  was  the  last 
one  aboard.  lie  gave  us  poles  that  he  had 
prepared  and  that  were  to  serve  us  as  oars. 
He  had  a  very  long  one  that  he  used  with 
great  skill.    We  let  him  do  all  the  command- 


THE  FLOOD. 


ing.  At  an  order  from  him,  we  braced  our 
poles  against  the  tiles  to  put  out  into  the 
stream.  But  it  seemed  as  if  the  raft  was 
attached  to  the  roof.  In  spite  of  all  our 
efforts,  we  could  not  budge  it.  At  each  new 
effort  the  current  swung  us  violently  against 
the  house.  And  it  was  a  dangerous  manoeu- 
vre, for  the  shock  threatened  to  break  up 
the  planks  composing  the  raft. 

So  once  again  we  were  made  to  feel  our 
helplessness.  We  had  thought  ourselves 
saved,  and  we  were  still  at  the  mercy  of 
the  river.  I  even  regretted  that  the  women 
were  not  on  the  roof;  for,  every  minute,  I 
expected  to  see  them  precipitated  into  the 
boiling  torrent.  But  when  I  suggested  re- 
gaining our  refuge  they  al1  cried: 

"No,  no!  Let  us  try  again!  Better  die 
here !" 

49 


TEE  FLOOD. 


Gaspard  no  longer  laughed.  We  renewed 
onr  efforts,  bending  to  our  poles  with  re- 
doubled energy.  Pierre  then  had  the  idea 
to  climb  up  on  the  roof  and  draw  us,  by 
means  of  a  rope,  towards  the  left.  He  was 
thus  able  to  draw  us  out  of  the  current. 
Then,  when  he  again  jumped  upon  the  raft, 
a  few  thrusts  of  our  poles  sent  us  out  into 
the  open.  But  Gaspard  recalled  the  prom- 
ise he  had  made  me  to  stop  for  our  poor 
Aimee,  whose  plaintive  moans  had  never 
ceased.  For  that  purpose  it  was  necessary 
to  cross  the  street,  where  the  terrible  cur- 
rent existed.  He  consulted  me  by  a  glance. 
I  was  completely  upset.  Never  had  such  a 
combat  raged  within  me.  We  would  have  to 
expose  eight  lives.  And  yet  I  had  not  the 
strength  to  resist  the  mournful  appeal. 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  said  to  Gaspard.    "We  can 
not  possibly  go  away  without  her!" 


THE  FLOOD. 


He  lowered  his  head  without  a  word,  and 
began  using  his  pole  against  all  the  walls 
left  standing.  We  passed  the  neighboring 
house,  but  as  soon  as  we  emerged  into  the 
street  a  cry  escaped  us.  The  current,  which 
had  again  seized  us,  carried  us  back  against 
our  house.  We  were  whirled  round  like  a 
leaf,  so  rapidly  that  our  cry  was  cut  short 
by  the  smashing  of  the  raft  against  the  tiles. 
There  was  a  rending  sound,  the  planks  were 
loosened  and  wrenched  apart,  and  we  were 
all  thrown  into  the  water.  I  do  not  know 
what  happened  then.  I  remember  that  when 
I  sank  I  saw  Aunt  Agathe  floating,  sus- 
tained by  her  skirts,  until  she  went  down 
backward,  head  first,  without  a  struggle. 

A  sharp  pain  brought  me  to.    Pierre  was 

dragging  me  by  the  hair  along  the  tiles.     I 

lay   still,   stupidly   watching.      Pierre   had 

plunged  in  again.     And,   in  my  confused 

i* 


THE  FLOOD. 


state,  I  was  surprised  to  see  Gaspard  at 
the  spot  where  uiy  brother  had  disap- 
peared. The  young  man  had  Veronique  in 
his  arms.  When  he  had  placed  her  near  me 
he  again  jumped  in,  bringing  up  Marie,  her 
face  so  waxy  white  that  I  thought  her  dead. 
Then  he  plunged  again.  But  this  time  he 
searched  in  vain.  Pierre  had  joined  him. 
They  talked  and  gave  each  other  indications 
that  I  could  not  hear.  As  they  drew  them- 
selves up  on  the  roof,  I  cried: 

"And  Aunt  Agathe?  And  Jacques?  And 
Rose?" 

They  shook  their  heads.  Large  tears 
coursed  down  their  cheeks.  They  ex- 
plained to  me  that  Jacques  had  struck  his 
head  against  a  beam  and  that  Rose  had  been 
carried  down  with  her  husband's  body,  to 
which  she  clung.  Aunt  Agathe  had  not  re- 
appeared. 

S2 


THE  FLOOD. 


Raising  myself,  I  looked  toward  the  roof, 
where  Aimee  stood.  The  water  was  rising 
constantly.  Aimee  was  now  silent.  I  could 
see  her  upstretched  arms  holding  her  chil- 
dren out  of  the  water.  Then  they  all  sank, 
the  water  closed  over  them  beneath  the 
drowsy  light  of  the  moon. 


THE  FLOOD. 


There  were  only  five  of  us  on  the  roof 
now.  The  water  left  us  but  a  narrow  band 
along  the  ridge.  One  of  the  chimneys  had 
just  been  carried  away.  We  had  to  raise 
Marie  and  Veronique,  who  were  still  uncon- 
scious, and  support  them  almost  in  a  stand- 
ing position  to  prevent  the  waves  washing 
over  their  legs.  At  last,  their  senses  re- 
turned, and  our  anguish  increased  upon 
seeing  them  wet,  shivering  and  crying  mis- 
erably that  they  did  not  wish  to  die. 

S4 


THE  FLOOD. 


The  end  had  come.  The  destroyed  vil- 
lage was  marked  by  a  few  vestiges  of  walls. 
Alone,  the  church  reared  its  steeple  intact, 
from  whence  came  the  voices — a  murmur  of 
human  beings  in  a  refuge.  There  were  no 
longer  any  sounds  of  falling  houses,  like  a 
cart  of  stones  suddenly  discharged.  It  was 
as  if  we  were  abandoned,  shipwrecked,  a 
thousand  miles  from  land. 

One  moment  we  thought  we  heard  the 
dip  of  oars.  Ah !  what  hopeful  music !  How 
we  all  strained  our  eyes  into  space!  We 
held  our  breath.  But  we  could  see  noth- 
ing. The  yellow  sheet  stretched  away, 
spotted  with  black  shadows.  But  none  of 
those  shadows — tops  of  trees,  remnants  of 
walls — moved.  Driftwood,  weeds,  empty 
barrels  caused  us  false  joy.  We  waved  our 
handkerchiefs  until,  realizing  our  error,  we 
again  succumbed  to  our  anxiety. 

55 


THE  FLOOD. 


"Ah,  I  see  it!"  cried  Gaspard,  suddenly. 
"Look  over  there.     A  large  boat!" 

And  he  pointed  out  a  distant  speck.  I 
could  see  nothing,  neither  could  Pierre.  But 
Gaspard  insisted  it  was  a  boat.  The  sound 
of  oars  became  distinct.  At  last,  we  saw 
it.  It  was  proceeding  slowly  and  seemed 
to  be  circling  about  us  without  approach- 
ing. I  remember  that  we  were  like  mad. 
We  raised  our  arms  in  our  fury;  we  shout- 
ed with  all  our  might.  And  we  insulted  the 
boat,  called  it  cowardly.  But,  dark  and 
silent,  it  glided  away  slowly.  Was  it  really 
a  boat?  I  do  not  know  to  this  day.  When 
it  disappeared  it  carried  our  last  hope. 

We  were  expecting  every  second  to  be  en- 
gulfed with  the  house.  It  was  undermined 
and  was  probably  supported  by  one  solid 
wall,  which,  in  giving  way,  would  pull 
everything  with  it.     But  what  terrified  me 

S6 


THE  FLOOD. 


most  was  to  feel  the  roof  sway  under  our 
feet.  The  house  would  perhaps  hold  out 
overnight,  but  the  tiles  were  sinking  in, 
beaten  and  pierced  by  beams.  We  had  taken 
refuge  on  the  left  side  on  some  solid  raft- 
ers. Then  these  rafters  seemed  to  weaken. 
Certainly  they  would  sink  if  all  five  of  us 
remained  in  so  small  a  space. 

For  some  minutes  my  brother  Pierre  had 
been  twisting  his  soldierly  mustache,  frown- 
ing and  muttering  to  himself.  The  grow- 
ing danger  that  surrounded  him  and  against 
which  his  courage  availed  nothing,  was 
wearing  out  his  endurance.  He  spat  two  or 
three  times  into  the  water,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  contemptuous  anger.  Then,  as  we 
sank  lower,  he  made  up  his  mind ;  he  start- 
ed down  the  roof. 

"Pierre!  Pierre!"  I  cried,  fearing  to 
comprehend. 

57 


THE  FLOOD. 


He  turned  and  said  quietly: 

"Adieu,  Louis !  You  see,  it  is  too  long 
for  me.  And  it  will  leave  more  room  for 
rou." 

And,  first  throwing  in  his  pipe,  he 
plunged,   adding: 

"Good  night!     I  have  had  enough!" 

He  did  not  come  up.  He  was  not  a  strong 
•wimmer,  and  he  probably  abandoned  him- 
•elf,  heart-broken  at  the  death  of  our  dear 
ones  and  at  our  ruin. 

Two  o'clock  sounded  from  the  steeple  of 
the  church.  The  night  would  soon  end — 
that  horrible  night  already  so  filled  with 
agony  and  tears.  Little  by  little,  beneath 
our  feet,  the  small  dry  space  grew  smaller. 
The  current  had  changed  again.  The  drift 
passed  to  the  right  of  the  village,  floating 
•lowly,  as  if  the  water,  nearing  its  highest 
level,  was  reposing,  tired  and  lazy. 
58 


THE  FLOOD. 


Gaspard  suddenly  took  off  his  shoes  and 
his  shirt.  1  watched  him  for  a  moment  as 
he  wrung  his  hands.  When  I  questioned 
him  he  said : 

"Listen,  grandfather;  it  is  killing  me  to 

wait.     I  cannot  stay  here.     Let  me  do  as  I 

■ 

wish.    1  will  save  her." 

He  was  speaking  of  Veronique.  I  op- 
posed him.  He  would  never  have  the 
strength  to  carry  the  young  girl  to  the 
» church.    But  he  was  obstinate. 

"Yes,  I  can !  My  arms  are  strong.  I  feel 
myself  able.  You  will  see.  I  love  her — I 
will  save  her!" 

I  was  silent.  I  drew  Marie  to  my  breast. 
Then  he  thought  I  was  reproaching  the  self- 
ishness of  his  love.    He  stammered : 

"I  will  return  and  get  Marie.  I  swear 
it.  I  will  find  a  boat  and  organize  a  rescue 
party.  Have  confidence  in  me,  grand- 
father!" 

59 


THE  FLOOD. 


Rapidly,  he  explained  to  Veronique  that 
she  must  not  struggle,  thai  she  must  submit 
without  a  movement,  and  that  she  must  not 
be  afraid.  The  young  girl  answered  "yes" 
to  everything,  with  a  distracted  look.  Then, 
after  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  he  slid 
down  the  roof,  holding  Veronique  by  a  rope 
that  he  had  looped  under  her  arms.  She 
gave  a  scream,  beat  the  water  with  arms 
and  legs,  and,  suffocated,  she  fainted. 

"I  like  this  better!"  Gaspard  called  to 
me.     "Now,  I  can  answer  for  her !" 

It  can  be  imagined  with  what  agony  I 
followed  them  with  my  eyes.  On  the  white 
surface,  I  could  see  Gaspard's  slightest 
movement.  He  held  the  young  girl  by  means 
of  the  rope  that  he  coiled  around  his  neck; 
and  he  carried  her  thus,  half  thrown  over 
his  right  shoulder.  The  crushing  weight 
bore  him  under  at  times.  But  he  advanced, 
60 


THE  FLOOD. 


swimming  with  superhuman  strength.  I  was 
no  longer  in  doubt.  He  had  traversed  a 
third  of  the  distance  when  he  struck  against 
something  submerged.  The  shock  was  ter- 
rible. Both  disappeared.  Then  I  saw  him 
reappear,  alone.  The  rope  must  have 
snapped.  He  plunged  twice.  At  last,  he 
came  up  with  Veronique,  whom  he  again 
took  on  his  back.  But  without  the  rope  to 
hold  her,  she  weighed  him  down  more  than 
ever.  Still,  he  advanced.  A  tremor  shook 
me  as  I  saw  them  approaching  the  church. 
Suddenly,  I  saw  some  beams  bearing  down 
upon  them.  A  second  shock  separated  them 
and  the  waters  closed  over  them. 

From  this  moment,  I  was  stupefied.  I 
had  but  the  instinct  of  the  animal  looking 
out  for  its  own  safety.  When  the  water 
advanced,  I  retreated.  In  that  stupor,  I 
heard  someone  laughing,  without  explaining 

61 


THE  FLOOD. 


to  myself  who  it  was.  The  dawn  appeared, 
a  great  white  daybreak.  It  was  very  fresh 
and  very  calm,  as  on  the  bank  of  a  pond, 
the  surface  of  which  awakens  before  sun- 
rise.    But  the  laughter  sounded  continually. 

Turning,  I  saw  Marie,  standing  in  her 
wet  clothes.     It  was  she  who  was  laughing. 

Ah !  the  poor,  dear  child !  How  sweet  and 
pretty  she  was  at  that  early  hour!  I  saw 
her  stoop,  take  up  some  water  in  the  hol- 
low of  her  hand,  and  wash  her  face.  Then 
she  coiled  her  beautiful  blonde  hair.  Doubt- 
less, she  imagined  she  was  in  her  little  room, 
dressing  while  the  church  bell  rang  merrily. 
And  she  continued  to  laugh  her  childish 
laugh,  her  eyes  bright  and  her  face  happy. 

I,  too,  began  to  laugh,  infected  with  her 

madness.     Terror  had  destroyed  her  mind; 

and  it  was  a   mercy,  so  charmed   did  she 

appear   with    the   beaut/   of   the   morning. 

fa 


THE  FLOOD. 


I  let  her  hasten,  not  understanding,  shak- 
ing my  head  tenderly.  When  she  consid- 
ered herself  ready  to  go,  she  sang  one  of  her 
canticles  in  her  clear  crystalline  voice.  But, 
interrupting  herself,  she  cried,  as  if  respond- 
ing to  someone  who  had  called  her : 

"I  am  coming,  I  am  coming !" 

She  took  up  the  canticle  again,  went  down 
the  roof,  and  entered  the  water.  It  covered 
her  softly,  without  a  ripple.  I  had  not 
ceased  smiling.  I  looked  with  happinesa 
upon  the  spot  where  she  had  just  disap- 
peared. 

Then,  I  remembered  nothing  more.  I  wai 
alone  on  the  roof.  The  water  had  risen.  A 
chimney  was  standing,  and  I  must  have 
clung  to  it  with  all  my  strength,  like  an 
unimal  that  dreads  death.  Then,  nothing, 
nothing,  a  black  pit,  oblivion. 


THE  FLOOD. 


VI. 

Why  am  I  still  here?  They  tell  me  that 
people  from  Saintin  came  toward  six  o'clock, 
with  boats,  and  that  they  found  me  lying  on 
a  chimney,  unconscious.  The  water  was 
cruel  not  to  have  carried  me  away  to  be 
with  those  who  were  dear  to  me. 

All  the  others  are  gone!  The  babes  in 
swaddling  clothes,  the  girls  to  be  married, 
the  young  married  couples,  the  old  married 
couples.  \  And  I,  I  live  like  a  useless  weed, 
coarse  and  dried,  rooted  in  the  rock.  If  I 
«4 


THE  FLOOD. 


had  the  courage,  I  would  say  like  Pierre: 
"I  have  had  enough!  Good  night!"  And 
I  would  throw  myself  into  the  Garonne. 

I  have  no  child,  my  house  is  destroyed,  my 
fields  are  devastated.  Oh !  the  evenings  when 
we  were  all  at  table,  and  the  gaiety  sur- 
rounded me  and  kept  me  young.  Oh!  the 
great  days  of  harvest  and  vintage  when 
we  all  worked,  and  when  we  returned  to  the 
house  proud  of  our  wealth !  Oh !  the  hand- 
some children  and  the  fruitful  vines,  the 
beautiful  girls  and  the  golden  grain,  the  joy 
of  my  old  age,  the  living  recompense  of  my 
entire  life!  Since  all  that  is  gone,  whj 
should  I  live? 

There  is  no  consolation.  I  do  not  want 
help.  I  will  give  my  fields  to  the  village 
people  who  still  have  their  children.  They 
will  find  the  courage  to  clear  the  land  of 
the  flotsam  and  cultivate  it  anew.     When 

6S 


THE  FLOOD. 


one  has  no  children,  a  corner  is  large  enough 
to  die  in. 

I  had  one  desire,  one  only  desire.  I  wished 
to  recover  the  bodies  of  my  family,  to  bury 
them  beneath  a  slab,  where  I  should  soon 
rejoin  them.  It  was  said  that,  at  Toulouse, 
a  large  number  of  bodies  carried  down  the 
stream,  had  been  taken  from  the  water.  I 
decided  to  make  the  trip. 

What  a  terrible  disaster!  Nearly  two 
thousand  houses  in  ruins;  seven  hundred 
deaths ;  all  the  bridges  carried  away ;  a  whole 
district  razed,  buried  in  the  mud;  atrocious 
tragedies;  twenty  thousand  half-clad 
wretches  starving  to  death ;  the  city  in  a 
pestilential  condition;  mourning  every- 
where; the  streets  filled  with  funeral  proces- 
sions; financial  aid  powerless  to  heal  the 
wounds!  But  I  walked  through  it  all  with- 
out seeing  anything.  I  had  my  ruins,  I 
had  my  dead,  to  crush  me. 

66 


THE  FLOOD. 


I  was  told  that  many  of  the  bodies  had 
been  buried  in  trenches  in  a  corner  of  the 
cemetery.  Only,  they  had  had  the  forethought 
to  photograph  the  unidentified.  And  it 
was  among  these  lamentable  photographs 
that  I  found  Gaspard  and  Veronique.  They 
had  been  clasped  passionately  in  each  other's 
arms,  exchanging  in  death  their  bridal  kiss. 
It  had  been  necessary  to  break  their  arms 
in  order  to  separate  them.  But,  first,  they 
had  been  photographed  together;  and  they 
sleep  together  beneath  the  sod. 

I  have  nothing  but  them,  the  image  of 
those  two  handsome  children;  bloated  by 
the  water,  disfigured,  retaining  upon  their 
livid  faces  the  heroism  of  their  love.  I  look 
at  them,  and  I  weep. 


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